i could go crazy like

friday after school: a cloud of
black between my ears again. i lay my head next to my
dog's head, wonder if she'll feel a difference when i die.
it's a little thing, you know. smallest
of the small, a smoke alarm blinking at the
back of my skull. one of these days the whole place will blow
sky-high, the air will rain the soft and ugly
shrapnel of my body, and finally i will
cease to matter.